Star Trek Asalooq, Episode 2: A Day of Note
by startrekasalooq
Summary: Freshly arrived on Asalooq, officers from U.S.S. Petrov are invited to a formal event with high-ranking Asalooq officials. Can they adapt to the way the Federation's newest member prefers to do things? Star Trek Fanfic in the spirit of DS9 and VOY. Episode Two of a series of undetermined length (five episodes finished as of 13.02.2018). Updates Mondays.
1. Chapter 1

Miguel Peña stepped out into the sinking sun and stood between the two HQ buildings, looking away from the gate to Asalooq Starfleet Facility and across the decorative ponds and the open space, to the habitat towers and the Recreational Facility. In the distance, he could just make out Petrov's dorsal hull. The ship sat in its landing pit, the most primitive of docking facilities, and engineering personnel was visible on top of it, still cleaning every nook and cranny to remove the dust the botched landing had caused to accumulate four days ago. Near the Recreational Facility and across the open green space, Starfleet and Civilian members of Asalooq Initial Civilian-Starfleet Mission enjoyed the warm, pleasant climate of Asalooq's equatorial region. Games were played, Mission members and their families were exploring their new environment, pets (both holographic and real) enjoyed their regained liberty. The bluish-green sea glittered in the distance, the sky was clear and atmospheric vehicles headed towards and away from Council City's airport. Some were modern shuttles, their engines humming away gently, but about two thirds were old, combustion-powered aerodynamic craft, much louder as they passed over ASF. Miguel saw a few people putting their hands over their ears. Such levels of noise were rare on Federation member worlds, but Asalooq had only been a member for a few months and had reached that status at a relatively early stage of technological development - or rather, technological proliferation. Their sub-light engine technology was good at the edge, but hadn't been for long so that the necessary modern vehicles were still being built, the manufacturers unable to keep up with demand.

Smaller airplanes, two at this time, were circling ASF at a respectful distance. Curious tourists, undoubtedly, wanting to get a look at the newly inhabited facility. Very few of them would ever have seen an alien, and now, with old binoculars and new electronic scopes, they would. Embarrassedly, perhaps, but reserved as the Asalooq were, their rapid technological and scientific advances over the last two generations could not have happened without a strong sense and appreciation of curiosity. He would get to know some of them tonight, and get the chance to compare them to Teldac Issor, his unlucky CONN officer. They would venture outside ASF for the first time, into Council City …

The Captain's comm badge chirped. He touched it and asked: "Is everyone there?" "Yes sir," replied Velna Coryn's voice, carefully polite for once. "I'll be with you in a minute." Peña closed the channel and went back inside to a small briefing room, where Commander Robinson and Petrov's senior officers were assembled.

Jamila al-Qamari slid her wardrobe shut with a sigh. For the last twenty minutes, she had amused herself by looking at her collection of dresses and other beautiful outfits, only to decide that no, none of them was compatible with the cultural data on appropriate Asalooq clothing. She loved dressing up, to have fun with the images she wanted to project, the impressions she wanted to make. Today, however, she would have to wear her dress uniform, for the second time this week. She didn't like it. The current model was dull, she thought distastefully, a hopeless attempt at a compromise between elegant and laid-back. It wasn't even that tight, so it didn't even have the appeal of showing her fellow officers' physical advantages. There were many of those. Roosevelt was so rugged, albeit married and not into women. Ensign Issor had that healthy, fit fresh-from-the-Academy look and dark, meaningful eyes. And her bunkmate from the flight here, Dr Eniyan, was simply gorgeous. Jamila found herself actually missing the crammed space they had shared, because it afforded her the chance to look at Eniyan and talk to her. Well, the doctor would be on the trip to tonight's questionable entertainment, so Jamila would be able to see her.

The Counselor adjusted her uniform, made sure her hair was "professionally configured", as she privately called the boring hairstyles she had to use, and left her apartment at H Tower Level 10 to head down and across half of ASF to HQ. The lift down stopped at level 9, and a nervous-looking Ensign Dhawan entered. Jamila smiled happily. So far, she liked most of the Petrov crew, and Dhawan was definitely in that category. "Hello, Ensign! Heading for HQ? I didn't know you had your apartment in this tower as well! How do you like it?"

Myra was nervous about meeting the Asalooq. What if she made a mistake? She had studied the briefing papers, but it was all pretty confusing. How was she supposed to navigate a completely different culture with just some dry, scientific-sounding notes to go by? Half the time, she was terrified by interacting with people from her own culture, so how was she supposed to feel about meeting a delegation from a totally different one, while having to represent Starfleet and make a good impression? She felt totally unprepared, out of her depth, yet very much aware that there was too much at stake for her, or anyone for that matter, to make mistakes. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

As the counsellor addressed her, however, Myra couldn't help but smile. She barely knew al-Qamari, but she radiated a joy and kindness that, somehow, put Myra at ease in what should have been a tense, awkward situation. "I think Asalooq is very beautiful," she replied truthfully, "And they took a lot of trouble with our quarters, that's easy to see. Comfortable and beautiful, not at all like being on a starship. I like it here. But it's also quite scary, don't you think? Being the first Starfleet people they meet, I mean. It's like all eyes are on us. And besides, I feel like I still don't really know how to interact with the Asalooq. I've read the papers they sent us… well, some of them, there were just so many and I was a little overwhelmed… but it still seems just so complicated…"

She hadn't really wanted to confide that much, but it had been worrying her for the last days and al-Qamari was so easy to trust that it just sort of happened.

Jamila could easily grasp how Dhawan felt. After all, she hadn't been on active duty that long herself. "I think everyone is nervous on their first assignment. I definitely was! You're right with the other thing as well. We are pretty far out here. But look at it like this: To them, we're the Federation. So the best thing we can do is to be ourselves, so they'll get an impression about what the Federation really is - it's us, it's all its people. It's not about being a certain way, but being like you are while letting others be like they are. I know 'being yourself' is sort of the counselling cliché, but in this case, I think it really does make sense. I'm not sure how to interact with the Asalooq myself, to be honest. Nobody is at this point, I guess. But they're not ignorant, either. They know our culture is different, they'll expect us to break some of their rules. We should just try and do it respectfully." Jamila laughed, and saw Dhawan smiling as well. "Break rules respectfully. Sounds very Federation, doesn't it? Like something Captain Picard could pull off." She put a hand on Dhawan's shoulder and smiled at her. "Don't worry. You'll do fine!"

The lift arrived at ground level, and the two women left the building. Jamila wasn't used to the feeling of an actual sun on her skin yet and let out a quiet sound of pleasure. "Sorry," she giggled. "Just love the sun. K class ones anyway, not the kind that fries you alive! But you'll know more about that than me…" She found it amusing how Dhawan was too modest to reply at all, and Jamila thought she detected a slight blush on her brown face. "Talking about knowledge - I'm not sure why they want me to go to this …" She checked a pad. "Uwnehi. Can't pronounce it. I mean, it's supposed to be like their military high command, where we're invited. You guys, sure, you've all got some sort of military function, but me? I've had my basic training, nothing more," she said, puzzlement in her voice.

Myra considered the question for a moment. "Well, maybe it's to give the Asalooq a more… balanced view of what we're like," she suggested, "You know, as you said, they're supposed to get an idea of what the Federation is like, and maybe someone feels that this idea wouldn't be realistic if it was just, you know, real military types." Not that she felt like one herself, really. The dress uniform she was wearing for the second time in a week still felt a little strange - as though it was several sizes too big for her, despite its perfect fit. She had to keep reminding herself that she wasn't just a little kid playing pretend with her friends, or else, on stage playing some sort of explorer. This mission felt like a little bit of both.

"Besides, you're a psychologist," she carried on, determined not to give in to her pointless thoughts, "Maybe they just want you there to observe and analyse… I don't know, the dynamics of our conversation, or how we react to each other, something like that. You said yourself that we don't really know much about the Asalooq yet. Maybe someone like you could help us figure them out?"

al-Qamari looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure, it's hard to figure out what our higher-ups are thinking at this point, but both ideas sound quite reasonable. Maybe you're right. I do hope I'll find out, because I really hate not knowing… oh, look, we've arrived at the briefing room already." She pointed out a large, soberly businesslike room with a table, chairs and various presentation equipment right in front of them. The Captain, Myra noticed, was already there, as was the Chief Engineer. They seemed to be engaged in conversation about some military matter but looked up when the two women entered the room.

'At least I wasn't late,' Myra thought as she greeted the two higher-ranking officers politely, but without being entirely able to hide her insecurity. al-Qamari's greeting sounded much more confident and she immediately made her way towards one of the empty chairs. Myra couldn't help but admire her attitude. Quietly, she, too, sat down, hoping nobody would try to get her to join the conversation.

Peña settled down in his chair and smiled around the table, greeting his officers and Commander Parker-Takeno from the Ground Combat Element. He found himself a little unfocused that evening, thinking about a two-week astronomical survey mission Petrov would undertake starting three days hence. The Defiant-class's raw engine power and the modern computers saved some time on such missions, but that would probably be offset by its rather basic scientific sensor array. Peña was confident they would find a way to get the job done, but he had another concern: he had not missed the troubled interactions between Commander Velna and the crew, and was privately sure that Issor's pilot error at the landing was a sign of something more than the usual anxiety all Ensigns displayed. He had not been under a lot of stress from people at that point; bridge officers, even Velna, knew to leave pilots alone through an atmospheric descent. The error, as Peña's old tennis coach would have said, had been unforced, and that was somewhat worrying. He would have to watch the Asalooq officer closely. The other members of his wardroom were reliable enough, although Emeryx had already expressed their displeasure at Petrov's scientific equipment. The Captain would set them, Roosevelt and Dhawan on optimal calibration during the first leg of the flight.

Silently embarrassed from being lost in thought, Peña noticed that Commander Robinson had already come in and started his briefing about the evening. "...far as the sociology team can tell, a Uwnehi is something between a casual work meeting and a friendly get-together. We're glad they haven't put something more formal on the table at this point, because frankly, neither side is really ready for that," Robinson commented gruffly. "I still don't know why the diplomats who managed the Asalooq membership application aren't with us, but apparently, their talents are needed on the other side of Federation territory. People, I need you to be smart tonight. I guess the easiest thing is to talk as little as possible. Keep to your professional domains. Don't ask how they feel, be careful about asking opinions, and for the sake of all that is holy, do not stand too close to people. They hate that. Standing shoulder to shoulder with someone is about their equivalent of a french kiss, or so I'm told."

Peña saw Dr Eniyan chuckle softly to herself. The doctor had a good sense of humour, he thought, but Robinson glanced at the Bolian with little appreciation of that. "Doctor, you'd better take this seriously. Some of the people we're going to meet have lots of influence here for the foreseeable future."

Eniyan raised her long hands in good-natured defense. "Aye sir, don't worry. I won't french kiss anyone." That caused a round of anxious laughter around the table. Even Velna managed a prim smile and Issor let out a snort between embarrassment and laughter. Counsellor al-Qamari shot Eniyan a look Peña found amusingly meaningful. No doubt, Eniyan was a beautiful woman, although he personally had always liked hair on the women to whom he was attracted. Robinson seemed a little annoyed by her flippant remark, but her sonorous doctor's voice was still apparently enough to reassure him. If her file was right, Peña thought, her flippancy was style, not substance.

"Also, they keep their emotions in check. They aren't hardcore Surakian Vulcans and they know we're not Asalooq (except for Mr Issor here), but just don't be too loud." An assistant in the corner gestured towards Robinson, and he nodded. "The transport they're providing will be here soon. Any questions?" Emeryx raised a night-black hand. "Can you tell us who the people we're meeting are?" Robinson nodded. "Yeah, that's a good question. They're from their Separate Council on Global Safety and Security. The Separate Councils are like specialised committees from the big Community Council, their main discussion and legislative platform, but they're more responsible than that, more like a ministry. The Global Safety agenda includes a lot of different things - law enforcement, emergency services of all sorts, defense and things like workplace and trade safety standards. The people we're meeting are part parlamentarians, part ministerial military experts and some are mid- and high-ranking soldiers. The Community of Asalooq Nations and Tribes, their global government, wants to establish a small star system defense fleet as soon as they can manage, and the personnel nucleus of that fleet is at the Uwnehi as well." Emeryx, apparently satisfied with the answer, nodded. There were no more questions and Robinson ushered everyone outside. Peña knew they were to be transported in some sort of luxurious wheeled road vehicle (anti-gravitation devices weren't available enough to the Asalooq yet to allow for VIP transports), but amused himself speculating how such a vehicle might look.


	2. Chapter 2

Jamila could suddenly hear a rough, clattering noise and the friction of wheels on the road. The Asalooq had never really done much in the way of road travel. Smart, inventive engineers that they were, they had taken to powered flight with a vengeance when it had come along just a few years after combustion engines. Thus, their road system was relatively primitive, but they had many shipping lanes and magnetorail for cargo and local traffic. With lots of empty space at their disposal (three billion wasn't nearly enough to fill up the continents, even when large swathes of them were completely empty), flying was the logical choice. As the road vehicle drew nearer, Robinson herded them all forward. "I'm told the doors will just open, no functionaries to let us in. It's polite not to acknowledge the driver at all - isn't that right, Mr Issor?" Robinson's voice bouldered along. Issor simply nodded, and Jamila once again felt sympathy for the Asalooq officer. By now, she knew enough about their culture to get an inkling for how it must be for him to be among people who had little regard for his personal Tashaneton, his personal integrity and private space as the Asalooq saw it. What Jamila couldn't wrap her head around yet was how his people got anything done. How was it possible that so reserved a species, so obsessed with their version of decorum, could have made so dynamic a technological progress over the last 100 years? It was an apparent contradiction, and contradictions, in individuals as well as societies, were always fascinating to the psychologist in her, taken aback as her private self might be with their ways. For her, it would be horrible to have to go to such lengths to approach anyone, to even ask how they felt … She had already decided she wanted to learn the Asalooq interactive techniques, so she could get to know as many of them as possible, but she was very much aware she had a lot to learn.

The vehicle was now visible; Jamila had once seen a picture of an ancient … carriage? What did they call it then? - in which a famous group of musicians travelled. The six-wheeled vehicle reminded her vaguely of that, but closer inspection made clear what it was. It had been a rugged cargo transporter, someone had removed the cargo hold and replaced it with a spacious passenger cabin, probably hastily adorned with Federation blue. Inside, plush seats with protruding wings awaited, almost creating separate cabins. Every seat had a small plate with little snacks and drinks, a high-class selection of Asalooq cuisine and cellar by the looks of it. Dr Eniyan made sure she had the seat next to Jamila's one, and the counsellors heart jumped delightfully at that. "They don't have seats facing each other," the doctor noted. "Makes sense in their context, not so much in ours, I guess," Eniyan added like an afterthought or a justification. She whipped out a compact medical tricorder and swung the whirring device over her food tray. "Should be fine," she announced after a moment and started to pick a bit of everything, just as the plate arrangement invited one to do. "Why do you have a medical tricorder with you?" asked Jamila curiously. Eniyan bent forward and gave her a smile that made her heart jump again. "We're supposed to be able to demonstrate something from our field. Didn't you bring a couch?" Jamila chortled with laughter. "Seriously though, I brought it because I know they are worried about their military medical service. They haven't had serious wars for two generations or so, so they're a bit behind the curve. I want to show them, if they want to, how easily they can equip their future defense militia to quickly diagnose any injury."

The vehicle started to roll on the road towards the city. It was a gentle ride, Jamila thought. Almost like in a shuttle. At first, they only came through the endless Chula fields surrounding ASF. She tried some Chula root from her plate, this one boiled and sweetened. She quite liked its sweetness, reminding her of a baked banana dish from Earth, but for a human palate, this was definitely a dessert. The next bit was crisply fried and wrapped in some leaf, whose peppery aroma almost made her cough. The Asalooq cuisine seemed all about variation, but Jamila liked that. The next bit she tried was a kind of shrimp by the looks of it, which turned out to taste a little like chicken seasoned with lemon, paprika and some sort of alien oil she couldn't quite place. "If they are half as nice as their cuisine, I'm moving here permanently!" she announced to the bit of Eniyan's head she could see. The doctor chuckled. "Yeah, I like this too. Not as bland as human food, at least," she teased. It was weird talking to someone without seeing their face, especially if the face in question was as lovely as the Bolian woman's. Jamila was about to reply in kind, but as she looked up, she saw the first buildings of Council City. They were unimpressive, low structures with a tent-like look to them, as if they could be packed up and hauled away. Many Asalooq m'rt or family groups, she remembered, especially those who represented their yahdooc or tribe at the Council, lived here only part of the year. The climate was such that not much isolation from the cold was necessary, so those groups had their "Council homes" and their regular, more permanent houses in their home region. They used to travel by sea and on the ancient roads from the national council centers. Asalooq valued their space, and with the explosive technological advance during the last 100 years, urbanization had only just begun. The buildings, Jamila saw as they entered the city, remained low. Asalooq architects seemed to like to use more space instead of building higher, another sign that they had never lacked ground to build on. However, modern industrial buildings became more frequent, interspersed with compounds of more permanent family houses, long and rectangular, often set back a ways from the road the officers' vehicle was travelling on. Under the roofed patios going all around the houses, Asalooq sat in groups, chairs and benches facing each other, not outward. Jamila saw her first Asalooq children, lively and scurrying about like most species' offspring, but much less rowdy than human kids of the same age group.

Only two groups of Asalooq seemed to pay any attention to their vehicle. One were old females, the only ones on the family patios to look away from the house, some quite visibly sitting in state, ruling over their little domain and looking at the strangers with rather suspicious dark eyes. The other were young people, distinguished from the patio-sitters by their clothing, and how they moved alone instead of in groups. They tended to stand and watch the vehicle go by, their expressions still neutral to Jamila's eyes, but with apparent interest. Some, even, discreetly made friends or family members aware of the vehicle with the UFP livery, and conversations seemed to start. Jamila remembered not to look at one group or individual too long. That got easier as the vehicle left the outer districts of the City, as small, serene and well-spaced crowds of young Asalooq started to appear, probably informed by like-minded friends from the city rim. Some even waved, which always caused awkward laughs from their friends and highly disapproving looks from passing older people and others in more traditional garb. One older woman even grabbed a waving youth's arm, and the boy withdrew into the crowd, much more civilly than Jamila would have done as a teenager.

Higher buildings started to appear, the rectangular, practical shapes of apartment buildings, which still carried over some of the family houses' traits, like balconies around the whole building and the shallow-sloped roofs. The windows were small and shaded, not really meant to look out or in, rather just there to admit some daylight. They reminded Jamila of the way Teldac Issor and other Asalooq looked at people - inoffensive, almost furtive. She knew it wasn't fair, wasn't appropriate in any way, but it depressed her to see them. How much pain, how much potential was hiding behind those faces, those windows? The thought embarrassed her. It was unworthy. Clearly, the Asalooq realized their potential every day; technologically, they had gone from where humanity had been around the year 1600 to where it had been around 2150 in little more than a century. Politically, they had gone farther still. For the first time, Jamila al-Qamari really understood what the challenge of First Contact was, what efforts had been and still were necessary to build and maintain the Federation...

The vehicle turned onto a wide avenue. Here, the buildings were almost recognizable as belonging to a UFP member world. Jamila could hear Eniyan cluck disapprovingly at the design, but she thought they had style. Balconies were a favorite, but these buildings were taller and rather majestic. The most fascinating and, she suspected, most carefully designed one was the IEAR compound - big Standard letters proclaimed that this was were the Institute for Extra-Asalooq Research, the global space agency of the Community of Asalooq Nations and Tribes, was located. The compound consisted of a glass tower, very much UFP in style, a series of rounded office and laboratory buildings and an elaborate shuttle port, not dissimilar to a Starfleet vessel. The Asalooq also seemed to know about gardening, because beautiful flowerbeds and vibrant hedges adorned the space between the buildings. Jamila was almost sad that this was not their destination tonight, and decided to try and get invited should an AICSM delegation ever go here.

The building inhabited by the Separate Council on Global Safety and Security was rather less impressive. It was a U-shaped office block, four stories high, with its own shuttleport and a communications outbuilding, which had a large number of antennas on its roof. There were whip antennas, but also dish-type ones, a weirdly antiquated collection.

Their vehicle slowed after the one-hour drive, and Jamila got up to straighten her uniform. The dress one again. Soon, they'd be heading for some kind of record with all their formal occasions.


	3. Chapter 3

As they got out of the car, Emeryx cast a curious look around. This was certainly one of the newer and wealthier parts of the city - well, no surprises there; after all, they would be meeting important Asalooq officials. As far as Emeryx had understood it, the Asalooq contingent would consist mainly of various military types, concerned with anything from defending the planet against invasion to workplace safety. Emeryx couldn't help being slightly annoyed by that. Of course, it made sense to have some people there who understood about that sort of thing - defense was important and, after all, there were quite a few people in Starfleet's contingent who knew a lot about that sort of thing. But still, the Asalooq should have made it a little more diverse. If they wanted to make progress, it wouldn't be done by letting military and security types make all the important decisions. Emeryx felt they should have included at least a few scientists, both for their observational skills, which might potentially make the interaction between the two cultures easier in the long run, and to provide some inspiration for the Asalooq, showing them what could be achieved if one worked hard to acquire knowledge, to make scientific and technological progress. Emeryx felt that would have been more important than sending the tenth military person to the meeting. But of course, the Asalooq were free to do whatever they liked.

As the Starfleet delegation made its way towards the building, Emeryx noticed lines of uniformed Asalooq standing next to the road, probably some kind of guard of honour. They were quite far away, further than Emeryx was used to, but even more noticeable was the fact that they all had their backs turned towards the Starfleet Officers. Normally, Emeryx would have considered something like that pretty rude. However, from what they had learned about the Asalooq, they assumed it was probably polite in their book. Maybe looking directly at their guests would have been considered intimidating, or intrusive, or both. Very interesting. Emeryx knew that dealing with the Asalooq would take quite a bit of getting used to. Their people, the Qama, were pretty group-oriented and, on average, at least as emotional and outgoing as humans. Therefore, Emeryx had no advantage over their colleagues except their scientific mind and some experience in dealing with unfamiliar cultures. Nevertheless, they were fascinated. What a great opportunity to meet a new people and introduce them to the Federation's ideals.

* * *

Jamila did little to curb her desire to look around, to take it all in on her first trip to an Asalooq building. Pointed in the right direction by little yellow arrows (not by functionaries as she would have expected), the Starfleet party entered a hall on the second floor after a short while. The doors were wide open. The Asalooq soldiers, politicians and bureaucrats, about fifteen of them, stood in pairs or little groups. These groups were almost military in the way they stood, but Jamila could do nothing more than to recognise that yes, there was some strict protocol being followed. She assumed the soldiers or members of some emergency response body were the ones with the bright, broad sashes. She had only just begun to learn Asalooq script, a complicated system of syllable signs, lexical and conceptual symbols, tonal and aspectual diacritics and to make matters worse, ligatures across all types of glyphs. However, she recognised one glyph connected with language or conversation and the ubiquitous symbol for "Tashaneton", which could denote a wide range of concepts between "manners" and "law".

The Asalooq allowed the Starfleet members to look around, to get acclimated, and Jamila used the time to turn to Issor and whisper: "Ensign, I should probably know this, but what do the sashes mean?" At first, she had the impression the Asalooq wouldn't reply at all, but after a short silence he did, looking straight ahead, his voice a whispered drone of no emotional content. "They are worn by emergency personnel, to show they are allowed to approach strangers outside normal rules if necessary." Her inquisitive look did not go unnoticed, and Issor managed an addition: "Green sashes are medical emergency personnel. Yellow sashes are worn by law enforcement. Blue is disaster relief and infrastructural engineers. Soldiers also have blue sashes with special signs, but they don't use them in peacetime." Jamila knew she was probably pushing her luck, but she couldn't keep herself from asking one more thing: "I see red too. What are they?" "The simple red ones are leaders of the color they have a stripe of. The very ornamented ones are councilwomen, high politicians and bureaucrats." Jamila wondered why he used the word "councilwomen" when there were men among the ornamented red sashes, but understood he had already been indulging her and kept her peace. She noticed a table in the middle of the room, where small tags seemed to lie neatly arranged.

Soon, a singular Asalooq woman in a brightly colored, flowing gown and an elaborate yellow and orange headdress stepped forward, her hands wrapped in some kind of shawl. She cleared her throat (or some alien equivalent) and raised her hands in a slow, deliberate motion until they were above her head. Everyone fell silent; even Eniyan seemed to stand at attention. "This house is a house of cooperation," the Asalooq began in a sing-song sort of voice, "a house of safety. We offer that safety to our esteemed guests, emissaries of the great Federation we have recently joined. In this safety, there is a mission - we are to overcome the boundaries of strangeness to start cooperating as one circle. To that end, we must know each other's names. We should take up the nametags on this table if we wish to leave the status of strangers behind."

 _No orders,_ Jamila realised, _not even a request._ Both groups approached the table and, without looking at each other, started the business of distributing the nametags. Her name and rank were meticulously printed there, plus a representation of it in Asalooq. They had style, these people; they had even taken into account the anthracite and blue color of her uniform and designed the tag accordingly. Everyone had been extended that courtesy, she saw upon looking around.

The Guardian (she now recognised her as a cleric at the bronze adornments on her robe's chest) raised her hands again. "Let it be known that everyone in this room can now see who the others are: what yahdooc and m'rt they belong to, what their name and position is. Thus, there is no indiscretion in addressing one another, but rather, some merit."

Jamila found herself appreciating the respectful attitude the Asalooq culture brought with it - but was it really genuine? She was extremely curious to find out, and held back a little to watch while the bolder Asalooq and Starfleet officers paired off to speak...

* * *

Miguel found himself liking the Asalooq way to conduct a conversation. Answers came after a short delay to make sure the other person had said all they wanted to say. They were looking for common ground, shared concepts, of which there were quite a number. Also, their contributions tended to be very deliberate, as if they had studied their content in detail before speaking. He spoke to two members of the Separate Council on Global Safety, a man from the Tashan state's disaster relief organisation and a woman from the planning staff for the future Planetary Defence Forces. They had formed a common opinion on how disaster relief infrastructure could be integrated with the military one.

"As you no doubt know," the planner said in the slightly monotonous Federation Standard Miguel already knew from Ensign Issor, "most of Asalooq's inhabited land is rather empty. There are long distances between settlements and a system of transporter relays would be of help. Some regions suffer heavy rain periods, during which land routes become impassable and air traffic is restricted to our more advanced aircraft, which we are just now starting to mass-produce. Access to our shared Federation databases allows us to streamline the implementation of our plans, but only plans already made can be implemented, and even then it will be some years before the modern craft are available in quantity. We are developing a plan to use the future global military as a disaster relief corps in peacetime. Excuse me for being so forward, Captain, but if you would be willing to form and state an opinion, we would be most obliged."

Peña smiled. "There is no need to apologise; after all, it is one of my duties to advise you - if and insofar you wish, of course," he added, remembering the need, in this cultural context, to avoid any impression of forcing an issue on somebody. "Many member planets of the Federation conduct business in that way. It helps to have organised, trained bodies of people in any crisis - and of course, Starfleet itself routinely deploys to lend aid in times of need." "We are very much aware of that," the planner nodded. "We know that Starfleet even helps non-UFP worlds if at all possible - a commendable attitude. Learning such things about the Federation was a major reason for our people to request membership." The compliment was elegant in that it was no flattery of Miguel personally, but highlighted the common values of the Federation - in which the Asalooq now shared, of course.

As the evening progressed, Peña overheard many conversations like his own. His officers put their best foot forward and made a serious attempt to treat their hosts with the exquisite respect they expected. He saw Commander Parker-Takeno bending over a large map display with several military officers from the lingering remains of the nation states' armies, whose interconnecting system Miguel did not grasp yet. At the same time, as Miguel was sure, the Asalooq overlooked many small infractions of Tashaneton by the guests. Some of them, especially the technical and operations experts, were downright inquisitive, albeit in an exceedingly careful way. The politicians with whom Peña spoke chiefly were less direct, but it was very clear that they wanted to learn about the way Starfleet was integrated into the wider UFP societies and how Starfleet worked internally, both in terms of written rules and ethos. For an advanced society, the distinction between the two seemed to be very diffuse or unimportant for the Asalooq, even though they technically understood the differences between the concepts. Miguel and Counsellor al-Qamari (a most entertaining young woman, Miguel thought, even if she might be a little exhausting privately) tried to convey Starfleet's internal culture, while Lieutenant Kristiansen seemed embroiled in a discussion of security and law enforcement matters. The security officer had seemed cold and moody to Miguel so far, but even she was apparently drawn out by the Asalooq's charming mixture of politeness and desire to learn. The evening was going well. There was still some way to go until actual material cooperation could start, but the foundation for that was being laid all around Peña.

* * *

To Myra, it felt as if a million things had happened at once. There had been so much to take in - the city with its many different buildings, their strange method of transport, the technology, the food (unfamiliar, but very tasty, she thought), and, most of all, of course, the people. It was all so strange, so new, fascinating and scary at the same time, and she didn't quite know which of the seemingly endless number of facts and details and impressions were important and which were not. It was quite overwhelming.

Myra did her best to stay focused, to be calm and professional, but it was far from easy, and before she had quite regained her equilibrium, they had already arrived at their destination. The introductions were just as strange, to human sensibilities, as everything else. Myra was beginning to see patterns in the Asalooqs' behaviour, to recognise some customs and attitudes she had read about in the briefing papers, but she was quite aware that what she was experiencing were only the very first beginnings of understanding, the first vague idea of what might, later, seem consistent and logical. Myra was about to make a remark to al-Qamari about her feelings - despite the short time she knew her, she had already come to like and trust their counsellor - but Jamila was talking to Ensign Issor, causing Myra to hastily back away. She still hadn't quite figured out what she had done to make Issor dislike her, although she now suspected it might not be personal. Maybe she had, in her somewhat desperate attempt to be extra friendly, violated Asalooq notions of personal space and propriety. It would make sense, she figured, but she was too embarrassed to ask, and so Issor and her were still in a state of awkward silence and carefully kept their distance. It was a pity, though - Myra would have liked to be able to ask her colleague some questions about his people, both out of curiousity and in an attempt to do better at missions like this one. Well, no chance of that now - and, therefore, the Asalooq still mostly remained a mystery to her.

Myra's assigned conversation partner, Wahne Feurna, did little to make it easy for her to interact. She was a politician - a councilwoman, if Myra had understood the introduction correctly - and slightly older, well into middle age. Unlike some of the other Asalooq representatives, who seemed to be so engrossed in discussions about technology and tactics that they left part of their reservedness behind, Feurna appeared much more conservative. She conducted herself with decorum - and, in an Asalooq, that meant something.

Myra felt slightly intimidated and more than slightly out of her depth. She knew it was her duty to initiate conversation, to win the councilwoman over, convince her of Starfleet's values and its strength. But how? She literally didn't know where to start. Remembering the briefing, she stumbled through what she hoped were the appropriate greetings, but after that, there were long, awkward pauses. She couldn't think of anything but a couple of polite platitudes which she hoped even an Asalooq couldn't be offended by.

Feurna seemed somehow expectant, but Myra wasn't sure if she was reading the Asalooq woman correctly. What if she was mistaken and raising any kind of issue now was considered highly offensive? She hadn't forgotten Issor's reaction to her well-meant greeting. Besides, even if she dared engage in a proper conversation, what would have been the polite way to begin? Myra could feel herself beginning to panic, her heart beating way too quickly, her mind worryingly blank. She knew there was something important she ought to remember, but she couldn't think of it, not now.

For a moment, she considered asking one of the more experienced officers for help, the counsellor maybe, or even the Captain who seemed so incredibly suave in this impossible situation. But they were all deep in conversation with the other Asalooq representatives - apparently, nobody had problems with that but her, a thought that heightened her feelings of panic and inadequacy - and she didn't dare interrupt them. Besides, wouldn't it have been impolite to leave Feurna in order to talk to one of her own people? Maybe if she could think of an appropriate excuse… but how should she with her mind racing like this?

"It has been very pleasant talking to you, Ensign, but I'm afraid I have to leave you now. I am very sorry, but unfortunately, I have urgent family matters to attend to." It took a moment for Feurna's words to properly register. When Myra had managed to wrap her mind around what she had just been told, she hastily mumbled that she didn't mind at all and expressed her hopes that Feurna's family was well. She hoped that was an appropriate reaction.

After she had awkwardly stumbled through the formal words of farewell, Myra was alone. Had Feurna left a little hastily? Myra felt she had acted not like someone who was hurrying somewhere, but like someone who was trying to get out of an uncomfortable situation. 'Nonsense, that's just your anxiety speaking. She said that she had to be there for her family,' she mentally chided herself. She felt embarrassed, inadequate, fully aware that she hadn't exactly won glory that evening. But the dominant emotion was one of complete, utter relief. Secretly, she felt very lucky that Feurna had other, more important commitments. After all, it had allowed Myra to get out of the situation a little earlier - and she had survived, had not accidentally started a war or a brawl in the government building. That was something.

* * *

After a number of officials had spoken to him, Teldac felt gratified. It was nice to be appreciated, and it was also nice to finally be with people who showed respect in ways he could not only understand, but actually parse as such. He even felt some hope that his less-than-glamorous background could be relegated to the past as long as he made no more terrible blunders like the one during the landing (which, obviously, was being ignored by the Asalooq who spoke to him).

Now, he stood alone; he noticed the way in which he did that, though. A few officials always looked partly his way, openly but with enough reserve so as not to offend. When one turned away, another did the reverse. They were simply giving him some space, a human phrase for what was, on reflection, a sort of motto for all of Tashan-Asalooq culture. The officials knew that he had conversed a lot in the last hour. That they restrained their interest now was polite of them, and also a mark of their regard. Teldac let his gaze wander across the room, watching the _Petrov_ officers, trying to ignore the fact that he would soon be cooped up on the ship with them again. Maybe they would have learned something of his needs by then…

There was Wahne Feurna, trying to talk to Ensign Dhawan. The OPS officer seemed so blunt to Issor, so _offensive_ in her manners - but the flight to Asalooq and the arrival had shown him that she was among the more well-mannered of the UFP personnel. Still, how could she miss the higher-ranking woman's gestures? Not only was Wahne moving her thumb in circles, she was even gesturing with her elbow towards Dhawan. The Councilwoman was clearly impatient by now, because the elbow gesture was impossible to miss. Teldac knew from before the Academy that Wahne Feurna had been leader of the Safety Council for the Alnay region, gaining prestige for her skilful handling of a number of earthquakes. She was also related to the Speaker for the Community Council, the highest official on Asalooq. Had Asalooq possessed a nobility, she would have been part of it, and Dhawan was ignoring her like an annoying child. Teldac didn't even consider the possibility that Dhawan was too polite to speak. No, she was either being extremely rude or extremely ignorant. Feeling particularly helpful, Issor quickly maneuvered so that he was in Dhawan's field of view. He tried to get her attention, but she was looking down. He even stepped down a little too hard, but Dhawan didn't catch on. Issor tried coughing next, to no avail. He had to pace his attempts so as not to seem too obvious. Before he could think of anything more effective _and_ within Tashaneton, he could hear Wahne's voice, making excuses to leave. The family matters she cited (the implication was that there were rituals to attend) were classic as a thinly veiled excuse. "Family rituals" had even become a joke among young Asalooq. Feurna left the room as Teldac stared in horror. Did Dhawan seem _pleased?_ Had she understood _nothing_ that had gone one between her and the politician? Issor's heart raced, and he tried to find _some_ way to make this right. The best hope he could think of, the Captain, was deep in conversation and could not be disturbed without doing more harm than good. The others Teldac just didn't understand enough to approach them about something like this.

The Asalooq had not missed Wahne's departure, and Issor could feel the resentment in his fingertips as the tide of the meeting turned. The atmosphere, friendly and interested and almost relaxed a minute before, was turning as cold as it never got in Council City's tropical region. _And my Starfleet colleagues are oblivious._

* * *

Not too long after Wahne Feurna had excused herself, the meeting was drawing to a close. Apparently, nobody wanted to overtax the patience or stamina of the participants. Myra was relieved - she was desperately longing for some quiet time, a possibility to finally relax. Besides, it had felt awkward standing on the sidelines while everybody else was still engaged in discussion. And how animated it had all seemed, too - was she really the only person who had trouble engaging with the Asalooq? Suddenly, she wished she were somewhere, anywhere else. What was she even doing here? She should have known that this posting wasn't for her. A whole new culture, so much responsibility - it was hardly a job for someone who had graduated the Academy only weeks ago, even less for someone as shy as her.

She told herself to get a grip. After all, she had survived this first meeting. Hopefully, it would get better after that. When she got to know the Asalooq and their ways a little better, things were bound to get easier, weren't they?

After the people who had been in discussion had taken their leave from each other, one of the most high-ranking Asalooq gave a formal farewell speech to the entire group. Myra listened with concentration, focusing on copying the Asalooq representatives' reactions. The speaker's words seemed rather formal and reserved to her, even by Asalooq standards, not quite in line with the animated discussions she had witnessed some of her colleagues having with their Asalooq counterparts. But that was probably just due to tradition, she told herself. Of course a culture like this one would have pretty rigid rituals for parting from a group of foreign representatives.

Soon afterwards, the Starfleet contingent was on its way out, again flanked by Asalooq guards who avoided their eyes. Myra finally dared breathe a little easier.


	4. Chapter 4

p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"Issor's hands were shaking as he left the building, walking next to Emeryx. He simply did not know what to do, but it was obvious how insulted and offended the Asalooq were. They set their feet with the toes pointing inward, looked past their counterparts instead of at the ground before them. It was all there, and his Starfleet colleagues were emmissing /emit. He tried to gesture to the Captain, but stopped after one or two attempts. The damage was done, it was all hopeless. /span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;" /span/p  
div style="mso-element: para-border-div; border: none; border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"The transport had already pulled up, another gesture of disdain. As the group approached the vehicle, the driver turned and looked at them. Teldac felt like he was staring just at him, and the theme was set, the future clear: they would blame him. As an Asalooq, even a technically clanless one, he should have seen Dhawan's indiscretion earlier - and as a Starfleet officer, he should have known what to do about it. His former good mood made it all the more brutal, all the more depressing. Issor got on the bus and overheard the Captain and Commander Robinson exchange positive remarks. It was all going downhill, there couldn't be any doubt./span/p  
/div  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"Their misgivings about the number of military types notwithstanding, Emeryx had actually been enjoying themselves. The Asalooq had proven to be curious, open for new ideas and learning, and it had been a joy to talk to them, to try and give them ideas and inspiration. Sure, their reservedness and insistence on protocol had been a little trying, but Emeryx had spent most of their adult life navigating a foreign culture, so they found it comparatively easy to adapt. They had still regretted the lack of proper, trained scientists to talk to - they resolved to ask if such a meeting could be arranged in the future - but even so it had been a rewarding experience./span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"Now, however, as the meeting was wrapping up and they were preparing to leave, something was bothering them. They couldn't really put it into proper, scientific terms, not yet, but they didn't share some scientists' misgivings about intuition and gut feelings. Most of the time, it was just a kind of observation that hadn't been given enough time to become a conscious certainty, and in dealing with lots of unfamiliar people, such instincts had proven to be vital. Emeryx withdrew a little from the conversation - something the Asalooq invariably respected if you did it right - and focused on observing the goings-on. The more they looked and listened, the more certain they became: Something was… off. Not quite right. The atmosphere of eager curiosity, so pronounced, and so inspiring, earlier, had all but vanished. The Asalooq were too reserved, too formal, even by their standards. It felt almost hostile to Emeryx. Why, they didn't know yet. Nor did they see much of a chance of figuring it out without some additional facts. But nevertheless, it might be an important observation./span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"Of course, Emeryx wouldn't have been a very good scientist if they hadn't always tried to test their theories. Right now, the only realistic way to do this was to discuss their impression with someone else who appeared competent in that sort of thing and see what they had to say about it. Emeryx considered the Captain, who, apart from his considerable life and professional experience, had a background in the humanities. But Peña was too busy interacting with the Asalooq and keeping the Starfleet delegation together. Emeryx therefore decided on the counsellor, Jamila Al-Qamari. She was young, but she had seemed competent enough to Emeryx and her professional background should give her some skills in observing sentients and their interaction./span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"Without getting undue attention from the Asalooq, Emeryx made their way over to Al-Qamari. "Excuse me, Counsellor? Could I have a word?," they asked politely. Al-Qamari immediately obliged, following the doctor to a somewhat more private spot. She looked interested, eager almost. "Thank you. I would like to ask you something, if you don't mind," Emeryx said politely. When Al-Qamari signalled them to go ahead, they continued: "Counsellor, from a professional point of view, how would you describe your impression of how the meeting went? Harmonious? Successful? And what do you make of the Asalooqs' behaviour during the farewell ceremony?"/span/p  
div style="mso-element: para-border-div; border-top: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-right: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Jamila found she liked the direct, no-nonsense approach Emeryx took to their conversation. Straight shooters were so delightfully easy to deal with. She considered the latter half of the Uwnehi. While she was far from understanding, let alone intuitively navigating Asalooq culture, she felt she was gaining some observational traction. "Well," she smiled, "until you asked, I wasn't giving it too much thought. I noticed an extra bit of … Asalooqness, for want of a better word, when they said goodbye. I think I got a micro-expression from one of the military officers - the tall male with the earring. When he parted from Commander Parker-Takeno, he moved his lips in a way that would indicate concealed disgust in a Cardassian, but I don't know if it works the same way with the Asalooq. There was the driver, too." She looked thoughtfully in the direction of his cabin. "You don't stare at people like that around here. It simply isn't done. Even if the driver isn't as high-status as the people we spoke to, that's a pretty firm rule." When she saw Emeryx nod slowly, she continued: "The Asalooq have so many levels of escalation in their interactions - I don't know of a culture that has more. They're very group-oriented yet respectful of others… I think it isn't easy here to start something recognizable as a fight in human terms." Her heart started beating uncomfortably fast when her and Emeryx's eyes met - were they both thinking the same thing? "Tell me... what do you think of that Councilmember … what was her name? Wahne? … leaving in the middle of the evening?"/span/p  
/div  
div style="mso-element: para-border-div; border: none; border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; mso-border-between: .75pt solid windowtext; mso-padding-between: 1.0pt;"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Jamila found she liked the direct, no-nonsense approach Emeryx took to their conversation. Straight shooters were so delightfully easy to deal with. She considered the latter half of the Uwnehi. While she was far from understanding, let alone intuitively navigating Asalooq culture, she felt she was gaining some observational traction. "Well," she smiled, "until you asked, I wasn't giving it too much thought. I noticed an extra bit of … Asalooqness, for want of a better word, when they said goodbye. I think I got a micro-expression from one of the military officers - the tall male with the earring. When he parted from Commander Parker-Takeno, he moved his lips in a way that would indicate concealed disgust in a Cardassian, but I don't know if it works the same way with the Asalooq. There was the driver, too." She looked thoughtfully in the direction of his cabin. "You don't stare at people like that around here. It simply isn't done. Even if the driver isn't as high-status as the people we spoke to, that's a pretty firm rule." When she saw Emeryx nod slowly, she continued: "The Asalooq have so many levels of escalation in their interactions - I don't know of a culture that has more. They're very group-oriented yet respectful of others… I think it isn't easy here to start something recognizable as a fight in human terms." Her heart started beating uncomfortably fast when her and Emeryx's eyes met - were they both thinking the same thing? "Tell me... what do you think of that Councilmember … what was her name? Wahne? … leaving in the middle of the evening?"/span/p  
/div  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"Emeryx hadn't misjudged Al-Qamari - she was a good observer and, so far, a pleasure to work with. However, her words filled Emeryx with even more misgivings about this whole business than they had already had. There were moments when even a scientist, proud of their intellectual abilities, wanted to be wrong, and this was one of them. However, it didn't look as if Emeryx would be granted their wish./span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"Despite the seriousness of the situation, Emeryx had grinned briefly at Al-Qamari's description of the delegation's behaviour as "extra Asalooqness" and resolved to steal it for further use. The counsellor had a good sense of humour. /span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"However, Emeryx soon became serious again as they considered Al-Qamari's last question. "Wahne Feurna," they replied automatically, "Let me think about it for a moment. I didn't attach any real significance to her leaving early, but now that you mention it, maybe I should have." After a thoughtful pause, they added: "Well, I overheard her making her excuses... She did cite a legitimate reason for leaving - she said that there were urgent family matters to attend to. However, she didn't give any details. Obviously, she was under no obligation to do that - but still, it doesn't exactly make the whole thing more convincing. It just might have been a made-up excuse. She did appear relieved to get away, as far as I'm able to tell with the Asalooq. Besides, if she had something important coming up, why didn't she say so beforehand? She didn't get any message, as far as I can tell, so it can't have been unexpected. But if she knew beforehand, why not inform everyone before the talks? It would have been more organised and polite, so it would have been the Asalooq way to do it, don't you think?"/span/p  
div style="mso-element: para-border-div; border: none; border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: DE;"Al-Qamari nodded emphatically. "I quite agree. It doesn't seem like typical Asalooq behaviour, except maybe as a socially acceptable way to get out of an unpleasant situation. Who was she talking to?" "Ensign Dhawan, the OPS Officer," Emeryx replied automatically. It made them wonder. They had worked together with Dhawan a couple of times - she was clever, talented, but utterly inexperienced and prone to making mistakes under pressure. Besides, she seemed shy about interacting with people she didn't know - even if they weren't an important delegation from a completely unfamiliar planet. Personally, Emeryx wouldn't have taken her on this kind of mission. Not yet, anyway. Not before she had gained some confidence. Emeryx didn't want to voice their misgivings aloud just yet, but they considered it quite possible that Dhawan had, inadvertently, of course, upset Wahne Feurna and caused the meeting to deteriorate. So far, it was just a theory. But Emeryx thought it was an uncomfortably plausible one./span/p  
/div  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"Jamila scratched her head. For some reason, her hair always itched when there was trouble. "We have to bring that up in the debriefing! Maybe Commander Robinson will want to follow this session up with the Asalooq." She slapped the back row of seats in frustration. "If only we were farther along! I'm not sure how bad something like this could blow up in our faces. Maybe something went wrong, maybe our side has to do something, to react somehow. The Asalooq seem to be trying to accommodate us, but we can't expect them to go too far with that…" Emeryx nodded darkly. "Commander Robinson definitely needs to hear this. Starfleet should not get caught with their pants down if this is some kind of problem. I'm not even slightly interested in the strategic implications, but I do know the Federation needs this mission to work, and it's not going to work without the goodwill of the Asalooq." They grinned slightly and shook their head. "Look at me, making political speeches. Where have I gone wrong?"/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing"Jamila chuckled. Emeryx was a fun person to be around, and their obvious intelligence made them a great conversationalist. "Okay, we'll bring it up in the debrief," she concluded, put a little at ease by the older scientist's flippant remark./p 


	5. Chapter 5

The makeshift conference was uncomfortable. Commander Robinson called everybody to the front of the bus, leaving the back rows empty. Issor ended up in the first row, next to the SGCE Commander. At this point of this terrible development, Teldac wasn't sure if he would have preferred to sit next to someone he knew a little better. He was still in shock over the blatant error by Dhawan and the abject failure of everyone else to even notice it. But really, when the Ensign had so oafishly rejected Feurna's request to converse, the damage had been done. Teldac could only weather the storm now - but the bad thing was that his colleagues didn't even know it was coming.

Robinson started the informal debriefing. "Well, I think that went alright. We all got to talk some. The officials are a nice enough bunch and as far as I could see, we managed to make a lot of contacts that will be useful politically as well as in our real business." With a glance at Teldac the Ensign ignored, Robinson added: "The Community knows its business when it comes to natural disasters and the like, but their military ideas are outdated. Commander Takeno, you'll want to teach their equivalent of Colonels most. They'll be the Generals in the coming years, the ones who lead the transformation." The Commander smiled, making Teldac want to cringe. _He understood so little._ "Anyone's got something to add? Personally, I'm glad they didn't draw things out too much. Home in time for a late dinner, makes the significant others happy!" Issor heard Commander Takeno chuckle next to him. Well, it wasn't all nonsense - _most_ of the Starfleet people had gotten along great with their counterparts… before Myra Dhawan had extinguished it all.

Darkness was setting in, and a slight rain started, as it often did at this time of day. Teldac was ready to forget the whole evening when Emeryx stood up. Teldac admired the scientist's obvious sharp wits, but their direct manner was almost disturbing. Emeryx seemed to be respected, even liked by the others. Odd that the bluntest, least respectful people often were the most popular among general UFP citizens. He had so much to learn about them… and they about the Asalooq.

"Look, Commander," Emeryx began, their manner typically rough, "I think you're not getting the full picture here. Counselor al-Qamari and I noticed a definite shift in their behavior after the Separate Council member Wahne Feurna left. We can't be sure what it means, but I can tell you it probably won't do to just declare victory and go home like a Klingon warlord."

The Qama scientist began listing the changes in the Asalooqs' behavior, and Teldac was impressed to see that they missed little. So _that_ was what Emeryx and al-Qamari had been talking about surreptitiously in the back. Well, at least someone had noticed. The Mission CO, however, wasn't impressed. He listened but then waved away Emeryx's comments, another supremely rude thing to do (and as far as Teldac knew, that was even true in human context).

"They're probably just glad to see us go. I heard they like to keep social occasions short. But hey, we have a natural expert with us. Mr Issor," he said, turning to Teldac who tried and failed to sink through his soft seat and disappear. "You don't think there's anything to this, do you?" he asked, clearly expecting a short and positive reply.

Teldac swallowed hard. There was no room for him to reply politely _and_ truthfully, the question had completely boxed him in, so much that among Asalooq, it would have been a major breach of etiquette. His shock and his upbringing carried the day, and Teldac _knew_ they did, but he could do little to stop it. He shook his head and heard himself say: "No, sir. There was nothing unusual." For some reason, Teldac's conscience spoke with the voice of his Starfleet Uniform Code professor from the Academy, a stern Andorian woman: _And that, Ensign, is dereliction of duty, a potential court-martial offense. It may not pass the legal test, but you should also consider the Immaterial Sabotage laws. The subject from your situation is in trouble in any case._

XXX

Miguel Peña was glad to see that his family was still up when he returned. His wife Alyssa and their two youngest sons, Pablo and Carlos, were in the spacious kitchen, playing a card game. Their greetings were friendly, but notably unfocused. The Captain smiled. That was understandable; after all, card games were a serious business in this family. Not even his wife asked about how the encounter with the SCGS had gone, but he didn't mind that, either. The thing was squirming inside his consciousness like a moody toddler, not really showing what the problem was. "I'll go and change - can I still join?" he asked the card sharks. "Sure, stranger. Make shurr ye bring money, y'hear?" replied Pablo, making his father chuckle. At seventeen, Pablo was a joker, always picking up new accents from people and holo programs. In this case, he had played out a Western scenario and learned to imitate a 19th century human quite well. Miguel put on civilian clothes and returned with a synthale, his traditional evening drink.

He was dealt in after a while (his sons having long since graduated from children's games to poker), and as he pondered his hand, his mind wandered back to the discussion on the way from the SGCS building. Commander Robinson had made short work of Emeryx's and al-Qamari's doubts, and after consideration, Miguel wasn't sure that had been a good idea. He had misgivings about the farewell bit, and hoped someone would check up on that. There was also Issor's denial of any problem to consider. Peña knew about the power of suggestive questions, and on the other hand, knew his CONN officer much less well than he would have liked. The Asalooq were hard to crack, and Issor doubly so. All things considered, he couldn't be sure that the denial had been genuine.

The hand was good, and he made his first bet. _Wait and see. And keep learning about the Asalooq..._

XXX

Everybody who had been part of the delegation had the following morning off. Myra was glad about that - she had found the whole business pretty stressful and exhausting. Therefore, she slept in a little and enjoyed a long, luxurious shower. Afterwards, she decided to go to the recreational facility for breakfast. It was a little too crowded for her usually, but she felt she should really get to know some more people, and this was a relatively casual way. Besides, the food really was quite good.

When Myra got to the recreational facility, however, the room was quiet - she was probably a little too late. All the people Myra saw were already engaged in conversation and Myra didn't want to intrude. Therefore, she chose a table for herself, half hoping that someone would come in and join her.

Following a tradition that was probably hundreds of years old, there was a screen on the wall showing the morning news. While she was waiting for her food and sipping her first cup of tea, Myra watched with casual interest. It might be helpful in getting to know the Asalooq a little better. Since none of the Starfleet officers - except Mr Issor, of course - spoke the language yet, there was some kind of translation software running in the background. Myra noticed it didn't seem to be very good yet - most of the time, she could just about guess what was being talked about, but it was quite far from actually getting an accurate translation. In parts, she had to rely heavily on the images to understand what was going on.

The first news item seemed to be about a new kind of transportation vehicle that had recently been unveiled, the second about an influential politician who had either committed fraud, been a victim of fraud or passed a law about fraud, Myra wasn't sure which. News item number three, however, immediately made her turn her full attention towards the screen. This building… she knew this building. It was the one they had visited the evening before, she was quite certain. As she concentrated on the audio, she could make out "Starfleet" and something about "talks" and "discussions". She was a little surprised - she hadn't really expected such a relatively routine meeting to be covered in the news in this way. Well, maybe the Asalooq were a little more excited about their dealings with the Federation than she had realised. Surely, that had to be a good thing.

As she continued to watch, however, her feelings of pride and excitement vanished more quickly than dewdrops in the Asalooq morning sun, being replaced by the first beginnings of fear. The commentary wasn't at all what she had expected. There was nothing about the alliance's potential benefits for the Asalooq, nor about the planned cooperation programmes. Instead, it all sounded… worrying. What little she could understand unmistakably indicated conflict of some sort - trouble. However, she couldn't figure out much more than that. It really was maddening to have to rely on the automatic translation. The word "Tashaneton", which Myra knew to be related to Asalooq ideas of manners and tradition as well as morals, kept being repeated. Did that mean Starfleet was being accused of having breached this code somehow? It seemed plausible, but she really couldn't say for sure.

Myra felt herself beginning to panic. For a while, she just sat there, staring on the screen, transfixed by the report yet not capable of making sense of it. She longed to understand what was going on, yet she dreaded the truth, too, because what if she was right? What if it had all gone unexpectedly, catastrophically wrong?

To make matters worse, Myra couldn't shake the feeling that this disaster, whatever it was, was somehow her fault. Her colleagues had all seemed so suave, so confident. She, on the other hand, had struggled, had blundered her way all through the meeting, wishing she were back at the base - or even back home, far from the Asalooq and their bewildering society.

After an endless while of feeling paralysed by her panic, Myra resolutely told herself to think rationally. She was an officer, after all. A professional. If things had indeed gone so badly wrong, it was her duty to help fix them. But that meant gathering more information first. Before she did anything else, she had to verify what this was all about. Maybe she had simply misunderstood the report. She really hoped she had. But how could she find out? She needed a translator, someone who could make sense of the original commentary and not have to rely on the hit-and-miss automatic translation… She needed Ensign Issor. If possible, her mood got even worse as the realisation dawned on her. Apart from maybe the scary First Officer, Issor was about the last member of the crew she wanted to ask for anything. After their entirely catastrophic start, it would simply be too awkward. She considered possible alternatives for a while, but none of them seemed practical - there was nothing for it: she had to ask Issor for help.

Before her courage could desert her, Myra activated her communicator. "Dhawan to Issor… uhm, Ensign, I know this is awkward and all, and I'm really sorry to bother you, but I really need your help. Could you perhaps come over to the recreation facility?"

Xxx

This day started just like the last one had ended. Barely had Teldac managed to get underway for his morning run when Ensign Dhawan, of all people, commed him. At least he was in uniform. He prided himself on being able to do his morning run without more than a hint of sweat, and he wanted to keep it that way. The fitness coaches at the Academy had warned of the "post-graduation slump". He liked his morning run. To make matters worse, Dhawan made the sort of information-free report that would have gotten her a good yelling-at in the infamous Basic Starfleet Training course BST, or "Blood, Sweat and Tears" as the cadets called it. He could remember being scared to death when a towering Benzite instructor had started shouting at a cadet a few places down the line. Asalooq didn't shout, not even in such a setting. Even a raised voice at a noisy workplace was accompanied by apologetic particles.

Teldac tried to ignore the renewed anger at Dhawan and told her he was coming to her position. He had almost (and blissfully) forgotten last night's incident, but when he saw the news broadcasts, he understood why she had called him to the rec center's mess hall. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Ensign, but this is about… well… us, last night I mean, and you're the only officer I know who is fluent in Asalooq," she babbled as he approached.

"No problem", he replied mechanically, wishing she would just shut up so he could listen to the original sound past the translation system. He felt himself go pale. "This isn't good at all…" he murmured, first in his native tongue, then in Standard for Dhawan's benefit. I didn't think they'd take it this seriously. "It says that the Starfleet delegation to the Separate Council insulted council members yesterday. What it is not saying is exactly what the insult was, because that simply isn't done in our culture. It would be very rude to describe the insult," he explained as he felt his blood pressure rising. She has me to describe her affront, if only she was capable of asking in a semi-civilised way. "The commentator is talking about a...I suppose you'd say grievous breach of Tashaneton."

He looked at her rather sternly, happy to be on the winning side of something, as shabby as that side might look in this case. He fully expected to be shouted at by a Captain, two Commanders and maybe even Admirals before noon, so this was a guilty pleasure. "The term I translated as grievous breach, wuinash'ta, has a special connotation. In former times, declaring a wuinash'ta meant that a blood feud between your and the offender's clan was very likely. Councilwoman Wahne must be immensely angry." _And you're to blame, you uncouth chore of a woman._

Xxx

Issor's explanation had confirmed the worst of Myra's fears. So the Asalooq were indeed upset about something that had happened at yesterday's meeting. Something she had done, she concluded, her fear and disappointment growing worse. After all, councilwoman Wahne Feurna had been her conversation partner. So maybe leaving early had been a sign of disapproval, of feeling offended. 'Offended by what, though?,' Myra wondered desperately. She had tried so hard not to speak out of turn, not to use any terms the Asalooq might find offensive. Realising Feurna's influential position, she had also made an effort to show her as much respect as possible. So what could have offended her? Myra felt terrible about having made a mistake, particularly one with such dire consequences, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what the mistake had been.

Issor had been watching her in silence. As far as Myra could determine, his expression was cold, even a little smug. It baffled her, even considering that they hadn't really gotten along. There should have been some solidarity. When Issor had made his pilot mistake earlier, feelings of superiority or triumph had been furthest from her mind. A little guilty relief that she had not been the one to mess up, yes, but mostly, she had felt sympathetic. Issor seemed anything but.

It made the next thing she had to do that much harder. But there was no way around it. She had to inform their superiors about what had happened, and before she owned up to her mistake, she at least needed some clues what that mistake had been in the first place. Otherwise, she'd not be very helpful to whoever she reported to - and besides, she wasn't crazy about facing the imminent dressing-down entirely unprepared. She swallowed with an effort. "Would you… I mean, of course you don't have to, but it would be very helpful… I mean… could you perhaps tell me what the councilwoman might be offended about? You have got some kind of idea, don't you?" Wonderful. Another monologue worthy of the Federation's greatest playwrights.

Xxx

Teldac was once more surprised by the way humans acted, especially this one. Dhawan had not posed the question elegantly, but she was so flustered that he couldn't help but feel a little bit sympathetic. And for the first time, he had the impression she was trying to treat him well. Scenes from his days as a child and teenager flashed before eyes, when other kids would treat him without respect because he was of that weird status people like him had, between a true clanless outcast and an accepted member of Asalooq society. He had tried as well, hard and every single day, and had gained little. That was why he loved the Federation: nobody who tried was ever truly excluded. He had to give Dhawan a little chance, even if she had already proven herself as lacking in manners… and wasn't there some satisfaction in showing her the errors of her ways? Also, the question had been posed nicely enough. With some reserve, some way to say no. As it should be.

"I...do have some idea," he replied. "May I sit down, perhaps?" "Oh! Of course. So sorry. I'm just really…" It was an annoying habit of humans, finishing sentences with a gesture. He could never read those gestures, often dramatic, over-the-top ones. To be fair, that could not be said of the way Dhawan's hands twitched and turned in mid-air. She wasn't quite as expressive as some non-Asalooq he knew.

Teldac pulled up a chair and sat down. Looking towards the window, with ASF's sweeping gardens in view, he rubbed his chin once and began to speak, getting the necessary preamble out of the way first. "Please note, Ensign, that I am not out to insult you. There is no need to justify yourself to me. I am not passing judgment. In fact, I would prefer if you took what I am about to describe as raw data, with which you may choose to do what you think best. If I do insult you, I am perfectly willing to make such amends as you may demand." He continued to avoid Dhawan's eyes and turned one quarter away from her, so as to give her as much personal space as possible. "I understand," she mumbled in response. Her reaction was natural, he thought; it was embarrassing to be schooled by a peer.

"Councilwoman Wahne Feurna left because - from our perspective and context - you ignored her clear request to go past a trivial stage of your discussion." He demonstrated Wahne's circular thumb gesture. "This is used by high-ranking individuals. It is something between a request and a demand to start substantial discussion. As far as I saw, you handled yourself well during the initial stage - I think your culture possesses a similar opening ritual. When you ignored the thumb gesture, she added an elbow signal, like so." He paused. "I'm afraid that at that point, you were already in … what's the expression... troubled waters. In an Asalooq of comparable rank to yours, the councilwoman would have expected a discreet apology for not noticing or ignoring the thumb gesture, but I suspect she would have waived that in your case if you had started the next level of the discussion. Not reacting to the elbow gesture, however, was comparable to… well…" He struggled to find a human equivalent, and only found a Starfleet one. "To ignoring Captain Peña when he met you in a ship corridor and asked about the EPS system's status. It's not a crime - like if you ignored the Captain on the bridge - but it's extremely rude. You essentially expressed the sentiment that the Councilwoman could beg all she wanted, that she was too worthless for you to speak to." He slightly raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I'm sorry, Ensign, for speaking to bluntly. Do not believe that this is easy for me - but I believe it is my...no, let me say this properly: our duty to face this situation as best we can." There was no warmth in his voice, but at least he managed to keep any disdain out of it - for now.


	6. Chapter 6

Myra was surprised as well as grateful that Issor was actually trying hard to be helpful and constructive. What was more, she noticed subtle changes in his attitude towards her, too. Suddenly, he seemed almost friendly. She had no idea what had caused this change in behaviour. It confused her. But she certainly wasn't going to complain. If they were to have any chance of minimising the damage of her blunder, Issor's help was going to be crucial, that much was certain.

She listened intently as Issor explained where she had gone wrong during the meeting. It was an effort - she was still too scared and embarrassed to have an easy time focusing on anything even remotely complex, and Asalooq manners were, without a doubt, as complex as it came. Somehow, however, not least thanks to Issor's efforts to explain in a way she would understand - he even used easy, recognisable examples, Myra noticed with surprise - she managed.

Slowly, it dawned on Myra. All the time, she had gone over everything she had said and done in her head, thinking that some kind of unintentional gesture or well-meant, but ill-chosen remark had gotten her in trouble. However, it wasn't anything she had said or done. It was something she hadn't done, hadn't even noticed. She couldn't for the life of her remember Feurna making the kind of gestures Issor described, but if her colleague said she had, it had to be true. Myra simply hadn't noticed, had been too tense and unaware of the importance of this sort of thing. Now, belatedly, she remembered vaguely that her briefing papers had, indeed, contained something about hand gestures. Even then, she hadn't realised how important it was. She remembered trying to read everything she had been given and miserably failing. It had just been so much material. She should probably have started with the most important documents, but she had been completely at a loss as to which documents these might be. Scared to ask anyone for help (she hadn't forgotten how the First Officer had treated Issor), she had simply picked documents at random. Apparently, the ones she had chosen hadn't been enough to make her realise how important certain kinds of gestures were for the Asalooq. What a mess. And it was all her fault.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "I really appreciate your trying to help, and it was a very good explanation. I'm quite sure I understand my mistake now. Maybe that's going to help in limiting the damage." She would have to talk to the Captain about this. The very thought was almost enough to make her freeze in terror. But she had been the one to make the mistake, so it was the least she could do to own up to it.

XXX

Issor hesitated for a moment, probably thinking about a suitably polite answer. Before he could say anything, they were interrupted by Myra's communicator. Her anxiety rising, she took the call. "Velna to Dhawan," she heard the First Officer say in her usual brisk manner. She stared at the com badge in horror. This was her worst expectations come true. Having to deal with the Captain would have been bad enough, but Velna? Myra had a distinct feeling that being court-martialled and locked up would have been preferable to facing the XO's wrath. Nevertheless, she somehow managed to get out a confirmation.

"Ensign, I want you to come to my office as soon as possible," Velna ordered. She didn't sound particularly friendly, but Myra couldn't quite decide if it was just her normal businesslike manner or if she was angry. Well, she would find out soon enough. "Understood, Ma'am. I'll be there in a couple of minutes," she said, trying to sound as meek as possible so as not to aggravate Velna even further. Velna didn't comment. "Is Ensign Issor with you?," she asked instead. "Yes, Ma'am," Myra confirmed, feeling, absurdly, as if she were betraying her colleague, sacrificing him to the First Officer out for young Ensigns' blood. "Good. Please tell him to come, as well, I want a word with him," Velna said.

"Well, you heard her… she wants us both in her office," she said to Issor after the com link was closed, "I don't think you've got anything to worry about, though. She probably just wants you there for an expert opinion on Asalooq culture." At least, she hoped that was the reason. She'd have hated it if she had, somehow, gotten her colleague in trouble as well.

Myra couldn't quite read Issor's expression, but it had to be uncomfortable for him to be facing Velna again. She'd have liked to say something encouraging, but she couldn't think of anything she considered safe. Therefore, they made their way to headquarters in silence.

The look on Velna's face was far from encouraging. Myra hadn't been quite sure from her voice, but up close, there was no doubt: She was definitely angry. "Ensign, I'm disappointed by your behaviour. Very disappointed," she told Myra after only the most perfunctory of greetings, "We are here to establish a positive relationship with the Asalooq. That is a huge responsibility. The least a Starfleet Officer should do in such a situation is properly read their briefing documents - which you, apparently, couldn't be bothered to do. Did you think you were too clever to actually have to study? I bet you were… it's always the same with people who come from the Academy with good grades after a sheltered youth on some… holiday planet... they all think they know everything already. Obviously, you are no exception, Ensign Dhawan. But I'm telling you this just once: you'll have to change your attitude very, very quickly if you want to stay here and succeed. This is not a game. Understood?"

Myra, fighting back tears, could only manage a silent nod. Miraculously, the XO let it pass, turning to Issor next. "As for you, Ensign Issor, I would have hoped you'd do a better job at keeping your colleagues from making mistakes," she said. It was so blatantly unfair that Myra almost protested. She stopped herself in the last moment, fearing she'd only make things worse for Issor as well as herself. Velna didn't seem like the type to be moved by that kind of complaint.

"Honestly, I've got no idea what they teach at the Academy these days. We're lucky there isn't a war on - if this is what can be expected from the recent graduates, the Federation would lose in about a week," Velna said, a clear note of scorn in her voice, "Anyway, this isn't my problem to deal with. The Captain will see you two about your blunder in a couple of minutes."

XXX

Captain Peña stared at the splitscreen image of Admirals Lorraine and Schneider, Commanding Admirals of Cardassian Border and Occupation Command and Outlying Regions Command, respectively. Why Lorraine was in on the discussion was completely unclear to the Captain. He would have much preferred for the hot-headed Admiral to stay out of his life as much as possible, but he was logged in, and there was nothing to be done. "What are you two commanding officers doing to rectify this?" demanded Lorraine, as if Peña and Robinson had just released fifty Denebian slime devils on his front lawn. In fact, this was none of his business, but Peña was patient by nature, even if he had to remind himself of that.

"As I said before, Admiral, we are still assessing the situation and possible options. In fact, I'm having Ensign Dhawan come in right now, and also my Asalooq officer, Ensign Issor." "You should court-martial them!" roared Lorraine. "And your counsellor too! And if," he added to Admiral Schneider, "the Captain and the Commander here refuse to do that, you should do it and put them right on the list as well, and the XO's, and the whole incompetent bunch!"

That he wasn't foaming at the mouth was everything. Peña could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. Something in Lorraine truly ticked him off - and he was no longer used to bouts of temper at his age. Fortunately, Schneider was of the same mind as Peña. "You can't charge people with being unlucky, Vince," he dismissed the senior officer's ranting. To Peña and Robinson, she shook her head. "But you have to get things under control quickly. We know little about how public opinion works on Asalooq, but you cannot turn the population against UFP membership, not so soon after they entered. It could destabilize the whole sector, once the Romulans and the Cardassians and the Breen get wind of this. Gentlemen, I'm getting the impression here that you're not using your assets as effectively as you could. I understand that Mr Issor is an Ensign and a…perhaps, a difficult personality, but Captain Peña, you need to activate his potential as a cultural translator. I'm sorry we cannot supply you with more personnel, but the shelf is way too bare when it comes to post-first contact specialists."

Peña and Robinson exchanged looks. Starfleet was too defence-centric, as Miguel was starting to understand. What good was being able to fight off an invasion if the slower, immensely difficult but equally important work of building Federation society could not be done? In his early days, Miguel had learned that what you defended was ultimately more important than how you did it. If the Federation turned into a heap of squabbling planets, held together by a common military establishment, was it really worth defending? The mere fact that he was asking those questions in his head was worrisome.

"The sociologists say that a public apology will go a long way, and sources inside the Asalooq system indicate the same," Robinson remarked, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "The problem is, we can't afford to make things any worse. We are going to work this out, Admiral, but it will take a few hours at least." Miguel nodded his agreement. Robinson seemed gruff in his manners, but the morning's news had obviously put the fear of God into him, and maybe made him understand how tricky it was to negotiate the Asalooq Community.

"Let's bring in Ensigns Issor and Dhawan," Peña proposed. "We can reconstruct the whole event with Mr Issor's help and maybe even start drafting the apology. You are welcome to join the discussion, Ma'am," he added, addressing Schneider. She shook her head, clearly wanting to get Lorraine off her screen as much as Miguel did. "No, I will let you handle this. But get back to me before you take any action. This is technically a diplomatic matter. The members are sovereign entities, after all."

The two officers on Asalooq nodded dutifully and Robinson turned to Peña as the screen went dark. "Damn, Lorraine is a bag of hot air, isn't he?" Miguel sighed. "Indeed, Commander. About our two Ensigns – I'm not quite happy with how they handled themselves, but I would rather take care of this afterwards. Rectifying the situation has priority, don't you agree?" Robinson waved the remark aside. "It's all good, Peña. Don't worry about me ripping their heads off. And I agree we have to get a handle on the whole thing before it blows up even more."

Glad that they were in agreement, Peñal called the two Ensigns in, thinking that they were probably happy to get away from Commander Velna.

XXX

Captain Peña, at least, looked noticeably less angry than his First Officer. That came as no surprise to Myra - unhappy as she was at having disappointed the Captain, she knew that whatever he had in store for her couldn't be worse than facing Velna's wrath. In her short time of being part of this crew, she had already developed an almost superstitious fear of the First Officer - and she was pretty sure that it was the same for most of the young Ensigns on board. It was certainly true for Issor, that much she had been able to see even through his Asalooq self-control.

After the formal greetings, the Captain studied the two Ensigns for a moment. Myra didn't quite know what that was about, but felt quite uncomfortable - not that it was an unfriendly kind of scrutiny, like she would have expected from Velna, but she simply hated being centre of attention. Even more so if she had recently messed up. Peña didn't comment, however, but addressed the main issue right away. "Well, Ensign Dhawan, I'm sure you are aware by now that your behaviour at the meeting was less than helpful," he said. At least he didn't shout. Myra nodded miserably. "Yes, Sir," she said quietly.

Peña paused for a moment before continuing: "But I'm sure Commander Velna has already made that very clear. My main interest right now is mitigating the damage. Do you, by any chance, know what exactly you have done to insult the Asalooq?"

"Yes, Sir," Myra said, "I do now. Ensign Issor has explained it to me. He says that councilwoman Feurna made hand gestures that symbolised she was… willing to engage in deeper discussions, instead of making small talk. I didn't understand the significance of the gestures then. But she got the impression that I ignored her because I considered her… insignificant, or something like that. Maybe it would be best if Ensign Issor explains the details, I'm not quite sure I've understood them all correctly yet."

XXX

Peña nodded and turned to Ensign Issor; his Academy records indicated that he was very well capable of expressing himself, and that, having lived in two cultures, he was indeed able to explain his own. It was just a matter of getting him to do so in front of himself and Robinson. Peña eyed the Asalooq Ensign and declared: "I happen to agree with Ensign Dhawan. Currently, you, Mr Issor, are the only one in the room whose explanation is substantially more than an educated guess."

The Captain had decided to make as rational a point of it as he could, hoping that good reason (which was at least in part universal) could be the lever to get Issor to explain properly. "In light of that and of the importance of this situation, your advice would be enormously helpful." He had not said opinion, let alone decision, because he surmised Issor would be more comfortable advising than doing anything more decisive. For a human, such a distinction might have been an academic subtlety, but for an Asalooq, it could well mean the difference between a real answer and a dodge.

Peña saw the Ensign's eyes dart across the room, from himself to Dhawan and Robinson, then back to the Captain. Then he nodded thoughtfully, cleared his throat and spoke. He repeated the explanation he had given to Dhawan earlier, expanding on the social context: "Usually, the choice of any member of Asalooq society to not engage in discourse will be respected, if signalled correctly. However, the form of social gathering called Uwnehi is specifically designed to allow in-depth discussions of subject matter more easily than normal. In that context, it's a grave breach of protocol if someone ignores, and, well, devalues how the person initiating discussion has exposed herself. For us, starting an in-depth conversation is… how can I say this… a large step. We assume a vulnerable position. Being rejected at this point, without good reason, is hurtful and diminishing to our status, especially if the rejected individual is of high rank." Robinson asked, his voice much more reserved than usual: "Will the fact that Ensign Dhawan here didn't know about the hand signs make any difference?" Issor considered the decision for a moment, and Peña wondered if the man wasn't among the more thoughtful young Ensigns he had met in his time. "If it is brought to Councilwoman Wahne's attention in the proper manner, it might. It is…proper for Asalooq to forgive slights of this nature if addressed right. Our society has outgrown an earlier stage where there was considerable feuding," Issor added, almost defensively.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me all this when I straight-up asked you on the ride home, Ensign Issor?" Robinson growled. The answer was quite obvious, Peña thought, but Commander Robinson was no diplomat, not even a very good communicator, and about as sensitive as Petrov. "I asked you if Emeryx's comments had any merit and you said no!" Captain Peña saw the Ensign swallow, his eyes darting up and down. Among his people, the Captain assumed, nobody was ever this confrontational. "Lying to a superior officer is not a smart move, Mister, and if I wanted, I could have you brought up on charges for that kind of thing!" Peña recognized that it was time to head off Robinson before he talked himself into a rage. "If I remember correctly, Commander," he interjected calmly, "you asked a suggestive question, geared towards the negative; correct me if I'm wrong, Ensign, but I believe the… threshold for contradicting a suggestive question asked by a superior is rather high." The irony of the situation didn't escape Peña - he had just erected a threshold equally high for Issor - but he was certain he was right. "The way you posed your question, Commander, made it almost impossible for Ensign Issor to reply accurately. Now… I agree with the Commander, Ensign, that you should still have done so; as officers, we don't have the privilege of following our social instincts," he added sternly in Issor's direction. "But it does explain the Ensign's reaction." Robinson had little choice to concede, because it was unproductive to keep harping on about past events, but he did so grumbling. "Well… do you have anything to add, Ensign Issor - really this time?" he asked gruffly. Issor shook his head.

Peña nodded, confident that they really were done. "Thank you, Ensign. Miss Dhawan, gentlemen… I believe we have an apology to draft?"


End file.
